Year of the Rat
by whereallthebirdswent
Summary: Peter Pettigrew's descent into darkness, and the beginning of our story.


**Disclaimer**

 **Prologue**

 _A Day in the Life_

Hogsmeade always looked lonelier at night.

The warmly lit shops were exchanged for darker, eerier ones; the brightly robed witches and wizards were nowhere to be seen; the pub was now devoid of its usual customers, and instead homed the stumbling drunks that left at only the earliest hours of the morning.

Peter had never felt more uncomfortable. Certainly, he had visited with his friends at night before, but to be standing in the alleys alone was a completely different experience. The Autumn mist coated the streets in an eerie, haunting glow; puddles of water reflected the thin half-moon of that night, and the many stars that seemed to shine from realms away. The scents of cigarette smoke and littered beer bottles mingled in the air, stinging Peter's nostrils distastefully.

Never before had he felt so alone, either.

A clock stroked the hour, not too far away. It resounded heavily, resonating in the air for long moments longer. Not too long now, he told himself. Soon, he could approach the Hog's Head and make the deal. Then he could go. It was as simple as that.

He should have known - Peter later supposed - that the deal would never be easy. Nothing with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters ever was. But this is how Peter started, and there was nothing that could have stopped him.

A man appeared at the end of the street, seemingly out of nowhere. He was familiar: the moonlight struck his pale blonde hair and turned it silver, his steely eyes gazing out from under the rim of his pointed hat. Yes, Lucius Malfoy was forever a familiar face among backwaters and night time roams. Especially when risky business was involved.

Malfoy turned his gaze over the empty street. He stood directly under an unlit lamppost, scouring the streets for Peter. He found him not moments later, and stood quite still to take him in. In few, quick strides, Lucius Malfoy was in front of him.

'Pettigrew,' sneered Malfoy in a cold voice. With him, he carried his cane, which sat close to his hip. Peter knew fully well that it contained his wand, and any threat to the man would. . . No, the Dark Lord wanted Peter. Lucius Malfoy had no choice but to obey.

'Malfoy,' replied Peter, trying desperately to maintain his cool exposure. But the boy failed and quivered, breaking under the elder's stare. Malfoy arched one brow to Peter before moving swiftly to the side of him.

'If you would follow me.'

The Hog's Head was unfamiliar to Peter. It was musty and dark inside, made of dark wood and filled with smoke. Few customers potted around the place, getting rowdy over beer, playing interesting games of cards in the corner. Peter was unfortunately reminded of such games in the boys' dormitories back in his time at Hogwarts, and felt a sudden bout of sickness. What would the others think of him doing this?

Another thought struck him. He had always lived in their shadows, always failed to live up to their genius achievements. He had always had to work hard to even scrap through school, but they succeeded without so much as lifting their quills. They were smart, attractive, appealing in most ways. Peter was none of those things. How he was put in Gryffindor, he would never know.

It wasn't like Peter wanted to do this meeting, either. But no one denied the Dark Lord. Not when they were cowards, anyway.

Lucius Malfoy lead him over to a table, right in the corner. It was crowded with three or four people, two of whom Peter was squeezed between. He leant on the table, wary of the fizzling, empty glasses of some magical, alcoholic concoction that lay before him. The Death Eaters eyed his warily.

'I brought him,' announced Malfoy. All eyes turned to Peter, each as inquisitive as the next. 'The Dark Lord has been planning this for months,' Malfoy continued. 'Peter Pettigrew, the friend of Lily and James Potter, here to tell us all their little secrets.'

They each sneered. Peter examined the hidden faces, eagerly searching for some recognition. There. . . A hooked nose, dark eyes, darker, long hair. . . Severus Snape stared back at Peter with a look of utmost hatred on his sallow-skinned face.

Peter almost winced at the look, and turned back to Malfoy, who was doing a dramatic portrayal in his most distinguished voice.

'So, Pettigrew, you wished to join us?'

 _No. The Dark Lord— He's making me do it. He'll kill me if I don't—_ 'Yes. I am.' He looked around again, trying to muster up as much bravado as possible to make himself believable. 'Please,' he was desperate. 'I know everything you need.'

'Everything?' It was Lestrange. Rabastan Lestrange, who had bullied Peter throughout his Hogwarts years, called his friends 'blood traitors' and 'mudbloods', was now ready to look at Peter as _one of them._ It was too strange.

Fate, Peter supposed, was a strange thing.

'You can provide for the Dark Lord? About Harry Potter?'

He broke eye contact from the tunnelling dark eyes of Snape, looking down at his feet that were hidden from view by the table. 'I can try. Anything, please.' _The threats from the Dark Lord are too much. I need to stop them._

'I hope you live up to our expectations,' sneered Malfoy, but he stuck out a hand and shook his eagerly. 'Any contacting Dumbledore about our plans and we'll have you dead.'

'I can find out where the Potters are hiding,' said Peter. 'I swear it.' His voice quivered and trembled on his final words. Lestrange scoffed, but let it slide.

Moments later, Peter was rushing out the Hog's Head door, trying to forget his recent promises, what his life now entailed. But it was his time, he remembered. His time to prove he wasn't just a shadow to his friends.


End file.
